The Beginning
by Dialux
Summary: Have you ever wondered how the idea of Hogwarts came to be, from some four young men and women to the "best school of magic?" My take on the story


Salazar stood, a blank silhouette on the stormy coastline, a shadowy figure that spoke of power and rage, and absolute, utter control. There were no tears in his eyes, no emotion in his face, no thoughts in his body, and for that Godric was terrified.

Salazar had always been the strong one of the four, coming as he was from a world of kill or be killed. Godric might have been the physically strong one, and Helga might have been the one to sooth all their pains away, but Salazar had been the quiet, burning shadow that never wavered and always held firm, no matter the consequences.

Godric closed his eyes, letting the long-ago memories, half-forgotten, half hazy, wash over him. By the Stone of the Circle, they had been young then.

Godric- his eyes a burning gold, laughing and taunting and carefree in a manner that seemed almost alien to him now. Rowena- tall and haughty, proudly ordering them around until he woke up one morning to see her crying her eyes out, saying that she couldn't do it anymore, that she just wanted to be Ro, oldest child of the Druid Leader Jern. Helga- short and curvy, vivaciously beautiful, looking up at him, eyes trusting and dancing and telling him, yes, I'll go anywhere, _I want to be someone. _And Salazar, sharp, sarcastic Salazar, whom he had found in a small grove in the middle of the Fens, eyes wild with a feral rage, body somehow under such control that he was able to disarm Godric, and heart so yearning he had listened to Godric's half-arsed explanation that came from the fact that he could barely breath with Salazar holding a sword to his neck.

There had been many times they had very nearly been torn apart, sometimes because of Rowena's pride or Helga's measly attempts at doing the chores, or Godric's chivalrious attitude that irritated both women to no end, or Salazar's sarcastic comments that plagued them all and managed to both amuse and irritate Godric to no end.

But they'd banded together, fighting off plagues and infestations and bandits, and Godric had thought he knew them all.

No. He'd thought he'd known all of them, everything about them.

And today he understood just how idiotic that thought really had been.

They'd swung into the lower regions of England, dipping into the Fens. It was dangerous- especially for Rowena and Helga- but Godric had insisted.

Against Salazar's wishes.

And now, it wasn't he who paid the price, but rather Salazar.

Salazar, who grew up there, whose entire family lived there.

A family that had thrown him out the moment they saw the "witchcraft" he was capable of doing.

And they'd seen them again, today. Godric felt like a bumbling idiot (not so rare, what with Salazar's sarcasm managing to deflate his ego quite easily) and somehow he wanted to comfort his friend.

But, there was one problem.

Salazar just didn't _do _comfort.

He was a logical, cold, precise man. Salazar could laugh and fool around with the best of them, but his childhood and his family had ensured that he could never truly enjoy life, never truly relax in the way Godric could without thinking about. Hell, Rowena- Miss "Wit Beyond Measure is Man's Greatest Treasure"- could have more fun than Salazar.

He'd heard the slurs that were thrown at Salazar, the cold-blooded rage that his _father spat at him, _and Godric had understood hate for the first time. Were these people, this man with eyes the sharp green of his friend, that woman with the cold disdain painted over her features the same exact way Salazar's was, that boy with the curly dark hair that was similar to _his best friend_ after a wash, were they responsible for Salazar's nightmares and fear and wild attitude?

A red haze had dropped over his vision. And he'd very nearly killed them all. How dare they call him "freak" and "heretic" and "bastard" when Godric and Rowena and Helga stood beside him? But more than that, how dare they even think of him like that, when Godric _knew _his friend, and knew that really, while he was sarcastic he was also the one who lagged behind with Helga when she couldn't ride as fast as Godric or Rowena, that while he may never be sympathetic to Godric's injuries he was also the only one to bind them up?

_How dare they?_

He'd never gotten so close to killing innocents as he did that day. He had lunged, and it was _Salazar_, who should have been the one who snapped, who held him down and hissed at him to "shut up and stay down or we'll all be killed."

Godric had never been more ashamed of himself.

Rowena and Helga had managed to get them out with a quick explanation that Godric neither heard nor cared about. Instead, he turned to his friend.

"Are they all like that?" Salazar's eyes were shadowed, and while Godric _knew _that Salazar understood, he chose not to.

"What do you mean?" A lifetime's weariness in such a young body, an age that should never have been visible on any of them.

"Are all the families like that?" Godric waved his hand, emphasizing families, "Do most of them grow up- _ostracized?"_

Salazar didn't nod nor agree, only redirected in the manner only he could. "Big words, Godric."

Godric frowned back. He would not be so easily dissuaded. "Well?"

Salazar sighed back, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Reluctantly, he nodded.

And Godric knew that his answer to that shouldn't have been what it was, but to _hell _with should. A grin spread across his face that rivaled Helga- on a good day. Salazar stared at him warily.

With a nod and a flick of his wand, he'd risen and steadied himself on Salazar's shoulder. Salazar, apparently thinking the madness was borne from his recent injuries- for some reason he called Godric an idiotic moron who went out looking for more danger the older he got- just walked him back to the campfire where they would have another nice meal of gruel and deer.

Yum.

But before he could get completely side tracked, Godric stood, wavering slightly, but standing nonetheless, and spoke. "So Salazar was telling me about how many of the kids in the Fens and around England are afraid of their magic."

Their response was not awe-inspiring. Salazar glared up at him, Rowena was rolling her eyes, and Helga was concentrating on her gruel more than him. But Godric was nothing if not stubborn, so he flashed a grin and continued.

"I think that we should open a school…"

And the rest, as they say, is history.


End file.
